The Return
by Ronwyn The Queen of Darkness
Summary: Killed in the final battle, Harry Potter expected to pass on and see his parents once again. But the fates instead cast him into another world where a war is raging, and Harry might be the one responsible for it! Dark!Harry, not Evil!Harry!
1. In The Land of Mordor

Disclaimer: If its not someone else's, its mine.

Chapter 1 – In the Land of Mordor

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><p>This was it. All his training had come to this. Harry Potter stood before the Dark Lord Voldemort and prepared for death. He had lost all he cared about to stop him and now all their sacrifice was about to pay off. Hermione had helped him find the spell. The spell his mother used. It was a forbidden spell, considered dark by many. He lifted his wand as Voldemort sneered down at him and tried not to shake.<p>

"Vita Parumper Vita." He intoned as the green light of Avada Kedavra encompassed him. _A life for a life._

He was dead. He knew he had to be. Voldemorts spell had struck him down and he _felt_ his heart stop as everything went black.

And as he died, so too did the piece of soul that had clung to his own for so long. And, as Voldemort smiled, so sure of his victory, his spell rebound upon him in an all too familiar way. And that was the end of the most terrible Dark Lord known to wizard kind.

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><p>In the land of Middle Earth, a fiery Eye glared out over the massive black tower it rested on. But, before the gaze of its disbelieving servants, it began to flicker and waver like a candle in a breeze. And then suddenly it was gone, the Eye vanished from sight. But the power of Saurons presence was not gone, for his tower did not crumble, and the armies that had gathered in Mordor marched forward to seek out their master.<p>

Elsewhere in Middle Earth, nine dark riders gathered to begin their hunt. They rode for the village of Bree, where the One Ring called to them. But, even as the Ring had cried out to them, another power, greater and more terrible, stopped them in their tracks.

"**The Master." **One of the riders hissed.

"**The Master dwells in Mordor fool!"** The dreaded Witch King, snapped.

"**Do you not feel it my Lord?"** Another questioned cautiously.

That caused a pause.

"**Yes, I feel it." **The Witch King admitted.

"**Perhaps he has found a new way to return!"** Suggested yet another, each completely indistinguishable from the other eight of his fellows.

"**Perhaps…" **

"**If it his Him, He will surely be pleased that we have found the Ring so he may take it himself."** The Witch King decided.

And so the Riders turned away from their quarry, to seek out the source of this dark and familiar magic, each in turn not even realizing as they began to remember things long forgotten. The Nine were once more becoming Murazor, Khamûl, Dwar, Ji Indur, Akhorahil, Hoarmurath, Adunaphel, Ren and Uvatha.

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><p>Harry grunted as he hit solid ground once again. This time everything around was in blurry shades of gray. He reached up to check if he still had his glasses, only to find them still on his face. He took them off and everything snapped back into focus. It was night, with a full moon and glittering stars above. And yet somehow he could see almost as if it was day, if a little less colorful and more shadowed. He was lying on top of a large hill, surrounded by crumbling ruins. Miraculously, he'd managed to avoid hitting any actual stones, though his back still ached from the impact.<p>

As he sat up and turned his head to get a better idea of his surroundings, long black hair fell onto his face. He lifted up the strands to stare in confusion only to see an equally unfamiliar hand. It was not the hand of a young wizard barely legal in the eyes of the Ministry, but the hand of a full grownman.

Panicked gripped him as he reached for his wand where it had fallen beside him, only to find a staff instead. It reminded him of the Elder Wand in its design and the darkness of the wood. At its top a small black stone was encased in a cage of wood. _Palantiri_, something whispered in the back of his mind. Everything about it was both familiar and not at the same time. He reached for the staff and, like the first time he held his wand, warmth rushed through him from the tips of his fingers and down to his toes. He smiled softly as bittersweet memories fleeting surfaced and he shoved them aside. He could reminisce later.

His panic warred with curiosity and lost. He needed to see what he looked like. He tried to remember the spell to create temporary reflective surfaces but failed. Perhaps water would work? Clutching the staff tightly he tapped it gently on the ground. As he spoke the spell though, something darker and more guttural passed his lips instead.

"Jut." He cast, jumping at his deep and unfamiliar voice. He didn't understand what spell he had used, it wasn't any Latin he could remember. But a small amount of water poured across the ground. Stars from overhead sparked in the puddle beneath him and as he looked down his knees gave out from under him. His breath quickened in horror. He didn't recognize his face.

His hair was a soft black, falling past his shoulder to touch his shoulder blades while is skin was so pale it nearly glowed in the moonlight. And he was tall, at least six feet. He was dressed all in black, with black leather armor covering his chest and a warm cloak to cover his shoulders. He touched his cheek and watched his reflection trace the unfamiliar face. He was older, that much was certain. He wasn't a teenager anymore, he was a man. A rather exotic looking man. His cheekbones were delicate and his ears…his ears came to long fragile looking points. He looked like an elf from a fairy tail. Only his eyes remained the same, if perhaps even greener then before.

"It could be worse." He mussed aloud, but the shaking in his hands and the tremors in his breath betrayed his seemingly calm demeanor. His voice when not casting a spell was different, smooth and deep.

He took a few deep breaths. Something had happened, that much was certain. He needed to figure out where he was first, perhaps locate a town.

And then it hit him, he had _no idea_ where he was. In fact, as far as he could tell he was in the middle of nowhere. Little to no vegetation grew on the hill, though he could see mostly flat planes of lush looking grass in every direction. And farther off still was what looked like a forest.

He felt his heart quickening its pace with his rising dread. But he didn't have time to break down. He needed to take care of his basic needs first. He frowned as he struggled to remember what he knew about camping from when he was preparing to hunt the horcruxes.

Fire was most important now that he knew he had water when he needed it; it would ward off any curious creatures. Look for signs of something he could burn, he saw only piles of rock and crumbling pillars. Perhaps if he had more light, it would be easier. He lifted his new staff to cast Lumos, but another dark work came from his mouth in place of the spell he'd meant.

"Draut!" He cried, still startled by his voice, more like a rasping growl then any real voice. But the light erupted from the top of the onyx black Palantiri. There was a squeaking sound as a few unseen rats fled the bright light. From the corner of his eye something flashed. He turned his head to spot it, lifting his new light higher to see if he could find it.

In a small hole, only visible when the light hid it just right, was a metal box. He bent down to pick it up, curious as to what was inside it. The crumbing remains of an iron lock, worn by time, was all that held the box together. A simple touch and the lock became metallic dust. He lifted the lid and gasped. Inside the box, surrounded by torn and deteriorating velvet, lay four rings. They looked so familiar, like he'd seen them before, perhaps in a dream. It was a white gold, with a huge glittering sapphire set in the middle. He placed each ring on a finger, and it felt _right_, as if he'd found something he'd been missing.

But as he placed the last ring on, he fell to the ground with a scream. He felt like he was on fire, his every breath searing him from within and flesh around the rings burned as the bands glowed ominously. Memories of another life came flooding back to him. He was Sauron! Loyal devotee of the great god Morgoth! He even remembered his supposed 'death'. But anything past his battle with Isildur was indistinct and too hard to grasp, like holding water in his fist.

But that was not all he remembered. He remembered his existence before he fell to the corruption of Morgoth. A time when he'd believed in all things 'good'. They'd called him Mairon, once. Before the elves began calling him 'The Abhorred', as they had when he'd begun spying of the Valor, the creators of the world. But Morgoth, he had been more powerful in manipulation then any other. For it was he that created Discord itself. Now for the first time, he saw what Morgoth had done to him with clear eyes. He had caused him to betray all that he had once stood for. He had corrupted the teachings of the only one who he might truly have counted as a Master to him. The Valar Aulë, the Smith.

Guilt gripped him, for he knew he had caused pain and suffering beneath Morgoths influence. As Sauron he would never make up for all that had been done. The rings had been meant to make him even more powerful, but he'd been blind to the suffering it had caused him.

Beneath all this, he was also Harry Potter. Hero for the Light. He didn't _need_ the Ring anymore! He was alive and powerful and…he didn't _need_ to conquer all of Middle Earth. He had vast lands he could rule if he really felt like it, conquered by his servants. And he knew now, of magic more powerful then any other. Sauron had never learned of the magic of love, but Harry knew it well.

But there was no time to ponder it all as a dizzying exhaustion pulled at him. Perhaps if he slept he would understand why he suddenly remembered being two different people. He looked around a bit more, careful not to stumble, and finally found a dying bush that looked as if it would burn nicely.

Once more, as he tried to cast Incendio, something entirely different sprung from his mouth. He remembered it now, it was the Black Speech.

"Bal!" He snapped as flames leapt from the Palantiri, and the bush caught ablaze instantly. He stretched out on a flat rock near his new fire and closed his eyes, wrapping his cloak around him tightly for all the comfort it could give him. As he drifted off to sleep, he shed a single tear. For the tale of Mairon was a sad one he'd rather have not known at all.

His sleep was plagued with nightmares as his subconscious mind tried to make sense of who he was. The balance between Harry and Sauron was thin and it threatened to drive him to complete insanity. As he slept his subconscious worked to repair the damage it was doing to his mind, and make the two separate personalities into some strange hybrid of the two.

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><p>The Nazgul hissed as dark magic flared. They were getting close now, they could feel it. They finally came to a halt as small fire held them just barely at bay. Lying upon a rock, lay Sauron as he had been when he gave the Nine Rings to them. His very presence bolstered their own strength. They dismounted their dark horses and fell to their knees as one.<p>

"**Master!"** Murazor, the Witch King, called out.

Harry jerked awake with a startled cry. Dark cloaked figures similar to Demontors in appearance knelt before him. He narrowed his eyes slightly. He knew them. The Nazgul.

"**Murazor."** He greeted slowly, not even realizing as he slipped into the Black Speech.

"**Long has it been since we have gazed upon you so whole."**

"**I…Ugh. Stop. Just stop. Okay? I can't….everything is so confusing. I died, didn't I?"** Harry gripped his hair to ward of a threatening headache. **"Tell me Murazor, who am I to you when you look upon me?"**

"**You are our Lord Sauron!"** Murazor half shouted, **"Has your restoration caused you to forget us?! Your most loyal servants?!"**

"**Perhaps he does not remember us as we have become."** Khamûl suggested gently. **"Truly my Lord Sauron, we have changed in your absence from the soil of Middle Earth. This is what became of us without your presence. As a spirit, you could no longer give us back our true forms."**

They were certainly much more outspoken then he remembered. More like what they had been when they were truly human. Murazor had been rather hot-headed, unlike his brothers, Adunaphel and Akhorahil. While Khamûl had always been his voice of reason. It was why he'd allowed him to become second in command of the Nazgul. Such balance had long since been unnecessary however, as they'd held little independent thought under the sway of their rings. It was actually reliving to see them this way, they were less like dementors now and more like the men they'd once been.

"**But now that you have returned, already I can feel my strength increasing!"** Akhorahil said. And that was true. Without him, the rings made them weaker as he'd designed them to. Their existence depended on his.

"**Indeed." **Agreed Adunaphel. **"I can feel the air around me now, and the soil beneath me."**

"**I remember you all well enough. You have already given everything to me, do not sacrifice your shreds of dignity as Kings by kneeling before me."** Harry smiled. **"Besides, you seem more like friends then servants to me, and friends have no need to kneel." **

They rose slowly, hesitantly. He felt completely comfortable around these strange beings.

Perhaps they really had been friends in another life. Regardless of what they_ had_ been to each other, they were all he had now in terms of people he could trust.

"**Master, we have found the Ring!" **Murazor exclaimed, interrupting his thoughts.

Harry sighed. They believed him to be Sauron, and as far as he knew he was…or had been at least. But no longer was he the same. Now he was also Harry. And Harry could care less about some insane Ring with a mind of its own.

"**Enough. Forget the Ring. Let it consume them. I care not. It is time for me to fulfill my promise to you, my most loyal. Time for your Kingdoms to flourish once more. And great shall be your domains! Greater then any other Kingdoms in all of Middle Earth!"**

A cheer erupted from around him and their hope was palpable.

"**Truly Master?" **Khamûl asked hesitantly.

"**Truly."** Harry reassured him with a smile. **"Come, sit by the fire and remind me what I have likely forgotten since my…resurrection. Tell me what **_**you**_** remember since your awakening."**

"**But Master...the flames will-"**

"**Do nothing." Harry interrupted. "I am here now, aren't I? I know magic that will protect you from even the power of the sun." **And that much was true. He knew a spell or two that kept vampires from burning in the daylight. Hopeful the principle was the same for Nazgul.

"**Thank you Master."**

"**But first, you must give me your rings." **

And here the Nazgul hesitated. Discontented murmuring broke out among them.

"**Master, you know we live to obey you. But…it is hard to part with your gift."** Murazor explained. They had long since become addicted to the power of the rings.

Harry reached out and placed a hand his shoulder.

"**Calm yourselves. I know well what they mean to you, but their power is not need, for you already possess all it can give you. You took them once in hopes of becoming greater kings. You never saw what they would do to you before it was too late. I can feel your sorrow, the feeling of being trapped. Enslaved by me, through the curse I put upon them. But no more. Shed your rings and prepare yourselves, for you will become what you once were and what you were meant to be."**

As one the nine knelt once more and removed the rings from their armored hands.

"**For you Master." **Murazor intoned, holding out his ring first.

Harry sighed.

"**I remember what the world sees when they look upon you. But with me here, and the rings in my possession, there will come a day when all will see you as you truly are. For you were once seen as men, and now you will be seen as Kings. True Kings, wise Kings. But first, I will have to teach you what you have forgotten."**

"**Like what, Master?"**

"**The most powerful magic of all, of course."** Harry said with a wide smile, trying not to let it falter at the fear his smile sparked in them, **"The magic of love."**

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><p>So, do you like it? I hope so! This is going to be SO much fun to write. Sorry if it's not all completely correct, but some things will be movie based and some will be based off the books and some I just make up! Please review! No flames! My fragile ego couldn't take it.<p> 


	2. High King Sauron

Okay, first I must thank a few certain people for their massive contributions to the completion of this chapter. A thousand hugs each to the following people without who this wouldn't have been possible! To Artur Hawkwing 1, my Beta, who did the most work when it comes to editing the story. To Zephyrus Genesis, who gave me some great ideas and remains as my Most-Wonderful-Beta for A Chance. To Drakaus, my Beta Gamma, who (despite claiming spelling laughs at them) caught and helped fix some serious sentence structure issues and gave me wonderful ideas (also thanks for being a being an awesome writer and inspiring my own story). To Slytherin4Harry, my Beta Delta, for all their help thus far and I hope that they will continue all their hard work. And lastly, to my mother (and unofficial Beta Epsilon), for do a last minute check-over, even though she doesn't actually LIKE fan fiction, just to satisfy my own worry about any missed errors.

Disclaimer: If it's not someone else's, its mine.

Chapter 2 - High King Sauron

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><p>Harry motioned them closer and the Nine crouched in a circle around the fire, marveling at their masters complete lack of concern for how close he was to the flame. In his hand lay the Nine Rings of Men. He could feel the familiar magic pulsing like a heartbeat against his palm. He had forged these with the teachings of Aulë, and it made him briefly wondered if his mentor would be proud of the creation of such powerful artifacts. But he had no to time for such thoughts, and forced himself to focus on the problems at hand.<p>

**"Love",** Harry began **"Is so much more then you understand it to be. It is an action, as well as an emotion. It drives great men to terrible lengths. To do anything, to say anything. To go to any length and at any cost. What I wish to teach you is an ancient form of magic, fueled by only the positive emotions found within a human heart. And make no mistake, it is all still very much **_**dark**_** magic." **That wasn't acutally true of course, but he doubted any of them would understand if he explained that magic was about_ intent_.** "You will see just how much soon enough. But it is not just love that you have forgotten, my friends. You have forgotten how to be human. And you will never again be fully human, for that is not within my power to grant. But you can be close, oh so close. For only kings with**_** human hearts**_** can rule over your people. Emotions like love can fuel powerful rituals and incantations that can do awesome and unspeakable things. As wielders of magic it will be necessary for you to both be able to cast and teach such spells."** While apart from the Witch King, none of them had been born wielding magic, the Rings had changed much about them and it was his responsibility to see that they used that power to its full potential. **"As good Kings, the spells I will teach you will help you to protect and govern your people."**

**"Master."** Interrupted Khamûl, **"Except for a few scattered remnants, our people are gone and our kingdoms have been destroyed. Our wives and families have long since died. There is none left for us to protect."**

Harry grit his teeth in annoyance of Khamûls interruption. But it was a good sign, a sign that they were becoming capable of independent thoughts once more. He doubted if they even realized that. They had been his slaves for untold years and those years stole memory without care. Could they recall, even faintly, a time as anything more?

He bit back a wince as the full force of their despair hit him. This was something he'd been hoping to avoid. What was he to do to restore their lands? He needed a solid plan and had hoped to have time to work one out instead of making it up on the spot. He was lucky they were so loyal, else they would likely strike him down for all he had done. Their lands had been demolished and it was mostly his fault. He had destroyed many of their kingdoms in the name of Morgoth, just as he had done to countless others.

He was getting another headache as two completely separate personalities warred within him. Perhaps…perhaps a little lie with some truths was the best route. He didn't know what had happened in the time since his fall at the hands of Isildur, but he doubted too much had changed. It wouldn't even be much of a lie, really. And it might give them the confidence and hope they needed.

**"Indeed, my friend. Your kingdoms fell one by one. And my hand in it is...regrettable."** And what could he possibly say? 'Hey, sorry I destroyed your lives and slaughtered your people?' He knew it was useless to feel guilt about it now, it would serve no purpose other than to cripple him when his own people needed him. For that was what they were. He had not seen it before as Sauron, but he knew now he was already a King. The High King of countless lands. Why bothering ruling all of Middle Earth when he was already struggling to rule the land he had? This train of thought pleased the darker part of him, the part that told him he was _meant_ to rule. He straightened his back a little more. In their eyes, he was King and they needed to see him as a figure of hope as well as a figure of power.

**"Murazor, Akhorahil, Adunaphel."** He continued, preparing to weave a tale for them. This was the important part. His success or failure could very well hang in the delicate balance between truth and lies. However the only real lie would be that he didn't know if what he told them was _still_ true. **"Have you forgotten so quickly what became of your people? The Númenóreans? They are still here, in Middle Earth. In Arnor and Gondor. Though they are not completely as you remember, for the traditions of Númenor have been lost over time and because of the mixing of blood with the peoples of Middle Earth."** He could feel some of the despair slowly lifting**. ****"In fact, all of your people have come to live here through time, if they were not here to begin with, and many can be counted among our allies! Ren! Your people, the Haradrim, are nomads now. The lands of Harad are dry and nearly barren, more so than before your kingdoms destruction. But I know spells that can restore your land with time and a great deal of magic."** Harad had once been a vast jungle surrounded by a ring of sandy dunes. But he had called a great fire to scorch the earth and ruined most of the lush land, leaving only scattered oases in its place. **"They came to ally with me because they grew tired of living in poverty and dying from thirst. Amazingly, through all this, they have maintained their spirit as great warriors, perhaps even greater than when you ruled as their weapons are now crafted with more skill. They have managed to keep many of their traditions despite things, and many know the power of the fierce warriors of Haradrim who ride the legendary Oliphaunt!"** The more Harry spoke, the more the despair eased, little by little.

**"Ji Indur and Khamûl, your people are doing well if a bit scattered from lack of ruling kingdoms. The lands of Rhûn are doing quite well, truth be told. My knowledge of them is unfortunately limited, but I know they have spent a great deal devoting themselves to magic. When I begin to teach you the practical application of certain magicks, we will go there. For the land itself seems to hold more power in it than any other in Middle Earth.****"** He turned to the last three of the Nazgul in turn.

**"Dwar...your people were scattered and sadly many are gone. But what remains are the men living in Núrn." **Núrn was the only fertile land in all of Mordor, providing his armies with food. **"Lastly, Hoarmurath and Uvatha. The Variags have been nomads since the destruction of your castles. Yet they still cling to all the old traditions, though not many know that horses from Khand are faster and stronger than those of Rohan. In fact, the beasts you ride came from there."**

Of course, they weren't quite horse anymore. Normal horses didn't live for however many centuries it had been since his defeat. There were a great deal of spells on their mounts. They weren't immortal of course, for he had no control over life and death. But the magic protected them from things like the Black Breath and the icy cold that surrounded the Nazgul. At his words, Uvatha reached out a gauntlet and called to his horse.

**"Good boy."** He said softly, stroking the beasts black coat gently. **"We will see our homeland soon, you and I."**

**"Yes, you will."** Harry agreed. He suppressed a shiver and wrapped himself tighter in his cloak as he gazed into the fire. The downsides of what he was were becoming more and more apparent. Sauron had never been truly human in any way. He'd been a spirit, given solid form by the Valar to help with the shaping of the World. He could be cut, but he had never bled. He could eat, but never felt hunger and sleep had been a luxury. But Harry was flesh, and with that all the disadvantages that came with it. He would need to go into a town soon for supplies and a horse, sooner rather then later.

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><p>Deep in the heart of the forest of Lothlórien, Galadriel stood transfixed at what she saw in the water.<p>

"My Lady." Celeborn murmured, approaching from behind her. "I could feel your distress across the woods."

"My visions have become uncertain, my Lord. There is no longer a fire above Mordor, and its armies are marching out. But their path is unknown. and a shadow…a dark and familiar shadow falls across Rivendale. Anything further is lost to me now. Everything is changing. This is not the way it was supposed to be."

Celeborn wrapped an arm around her shoulders comfortingly.

"Is it the shadow of the One Ring?"

"I do not know, but I don't think so..." She shivered, "But it has been a very long time since I felt this. Yet somehow, not long enough."

"Shall I gather some warriors and ride for Rivendale then?"

"You are needed to watch over our people here in Lothlórien. I will go. For I must see if I can find what it is that clouds my visions with such uncertainty and lend my protection to our brothers. Perhaps the Windlord will consent to bear me and a handful of warriors."

"The Great Eagles had long been our allies. If you believe this to be the right path I can do nothing to hold you here. I will see that the signal is lit and hope that Gwaihir is swift."

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><p>If you liked it tell me so with a review! And thank you so much to all my reviewers, for without your praise I am nothing! Also, a personal shout out to Fallen-Ryu, who offered up so many possible ideas I don't think I can find room to add them all!<p> 


	3. The Hero

Huzzah! I have finally gotten my new computer installed with Word! No more empty promises of updates! I hope you guys aren't mad at me. Much thanks to my new Alpha Beta Starla S Shadows! Also, now looking for more betas as all of my old ones have gotten out of contact! Message me if you are interested!

Disclaimer: If its not theirs its mine.

Chapter 3 The Hero

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><p>Harry sat next to the fire in contemplative silence, feeling exhausted as if his passionate speech had required physical energy. He looked down at his lap and stared at the nine golden rings that lay in his fist. They were surprisingly simple in their design, golden bands with black stones set in the center. And yet each one pulsed with magic, almost like a heartbeat. A desire to understand the strange magic gripped him and he nearly placed them on his hands. But the memory of the pain he'd went through early made him recoil and nearly throw the rings into the grass. But he couldn't do that. He needed to know why all this was happening and the memories he needed seemed just out of reach. He knew that, somehow, the rings were the key to his understanding. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the nine rings he held, but the fear of pain made him hesitate.<p>

And then the darker part of him, the part that was Sauron, had a thought. What if he did put them on and it left him weakened? The best action would be to send away the Nine before anything else. They couldn't be trusted anymore, now that his hold on their direct actions was not as strong. They might realize they had him in a vulnerable position and dispatch him before he could stop them.

Harry shook his head sharply to try and rid himself of the nagging suspicions. It didn't matter. He had chosen to lessen his control. He didn't _want_ puppets. All puppets were good for was mindless pandering. Voldemort was an excellent example of that, with his army of almost completely useless Death Eaters that bowed and scrapped and kissed his robes. But in end Voldemort had lost, and none of his slaves had stopped it. Sauron too, had met as close to an end as he could. His army had been helpless without his will to direct their every action.

For Harry, the desire to prove those ridiculous thoughts wrong is what truly made him make his decision. If treated them with kindness and respect, he could succeed in nearly anything. Ron and Hermione had been his best friends. They had followed him to hell and back and would have done it all over again if he'd needed them to. He allowed himself a brief, fond, smile. It all started with trust. He stood up abruptly, immediately grabbing the attention of the others.

**"My friends, I am about to undergo something that will leave me weak and tired for a time."** He announced.** "But I trust you will all watch over me while I recover."**

**"Of course, Master!"** Murazor exclaimed, as if horrified he'd suggested even a hint of doubt in them. The others were quick to agree with him.

"**Calm yourself, Murazor. I know you will."** He soothed. **"When I recover we will need to locate the nearest village. Until then, you will wait here. I doubt it will take long."** He had no idea how long it had taken last time, but if he was lucky it would only be moments. As he placed the rings on his fingers, Harrys last coherent thought was that he'd always had terrible luck. And then the pain began and all he could do was scream.

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><p>Not far away, in Bee, the villagers coward in their homes. They could hear the screaming on the wind. A few brave souls wandered the streets making sure everyone was safe in their homes. And when everyone had seemingly been accounted for still one panicked woman was stumbling through the streets. She burst into the Prancing Pony, eyes filled with tears.<p>

"Please!" She gasped. "Has anyone seen my son?" She scanned the faces around her desperately. "Please…I can't find him anywhere!" The thought that such tortured wailing could be coming from her child knocked the air from her lungs. "He's just a boy." As people turned their faces away from her she felt each denial like a sword in her chest. Her knees buckled as her body threatened to give out from all the stress. But one kind man caught her arm to steady her.

"Easy now ma'am." The ranger know as Strider smiled kindly down at her. "Everything will be fine."

"My son!" She wailed.

"I will go and investigate." Her sorrow had stirred him to action. No mother should live in such uncertainty and pain. "If your boy is out there I will bring him home, I swear it." The ranger turned to the four hobbits peering down at him from the stairs. "Mr. Underhill, if I am not back by the time the sun rises you must take my horse. He knows the way you need to go from here."

Frodo Baggins stared at him with wide eyes, one hand gripping the chain beneath his shirt.

"But sir…you're not REALLY going to go out there, are you?"

That earned him an indulgent smile.

"No one else will, I'm afraid." Strider raised an eyebrow. "Unless you are volunteering, Mr. Underhill?"

Frodo flinched, feeling ashamed of his cowardice even as he shook his head frantically.

The woman grabbed the man's sleeve tightly.

"The Valar bless you." She cried. Her hand was gently removed.

"Think nothing of it." He left without another word, head held high. But the truth was he was doing well not to shake with each step. He knew what horror likely awaited him. The calls of the Nazgul had ceased not long before the screaming had begun. The chances seemed likely that they had found easier prey to hunt. But what worried him the most was wondering what could have pulled them from the trail of the One-Ring.

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><p>I know its short, but my next update will coming much more quickly then this one! I promise! Please leave a review if you liked it. The more reviews the faster I write!<p> 


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